Free Web NovelChapter 56: Another Troublesome Bully
The Verdant Circle’s main hall was even more impressive than the shop window had made it seem.
The building had once been a greenhouse, and that much was still clear at a glance. Its walls were made of enchanted glass that encouraged crop growth, while rows of plants filled the interior in neat, carefully tended beds, each one marked with a small copper plaque.
’Could feed an entire neighborhood with a setup like this...’
Lena came to a stop just inside the doorway.
"Oh," she breathed. "Oh, this is..."
She trailed off before she could finish.
A young attendant approached them, a leaf-green Verdant Circle badge pinned to her collar. Her gaze flicked over Damon with polite disinterest before settling on Lena.
"Visiting alchemist?" she asked.
"Yes! I mean, yes. Lena Hartwell, from the academy."
"Welcome to the Verdant Circle. We offer guided tours for visiting guild members and independent alchemists. The tour lasts about an hour and covers our cultivation facilities, ingredient processing, and the main laboratory."
She gestured toward a door at the far end of the greenhouse.
"The tour fee is fifty credits."
Lena was already reaching for her coin purse.
Damon rested a hand on her arm. "I’ve got it."
"You don’t have to—"
"Consider it repayment for all those discounted potions."
Lena hesitated, then gave a small nod. Damon paid the attendant, who handed Lena a copper badge stamped VISITOR and motioned for them to follow.
The tour was everything Lena had hoped for.
They started in the cultivation wing: long rows of raised beds where rare herbs grew under tightly controlled conditions. Moonpetal, Frost Lotus, Emberbloom, and a dozen others Damon didn’t recognize.
Lena asked about every single one. Soil composition, watering schedules, mana saturation levels. The attendant answered with the steady patience of someone who had guided far too many visiting alchemists to count.
Next came the processing wing, with its drying racks, distillation equipment, and rows of glass vials in every size imaginable. Workers in green-trimmed robes moved from station to station, turning raw plants into refined ingredients.
Lena took notes the entire time. Her pen moved quickly across her notebook, filling page after page with observations and diagrams.
They saved the main laboratory for last. It was larger than the academy’s entire alchemy wing, a huge open room packed with workstations and bubbling flasks. A dozen alchemists worked at different stations, their voices blending into a low, constant murmur.
"This is where our guild members conduct their research," the attendant said. "We also rent workspace to visiting alchemists. Rates vary depending on equipment use."
Lena turned to Damon with an expression that was doing its best to stay composed and failing completely.
"Rent workspace," she repeated softly. "I could actually work here. With this equipment. With these ingredients."
"Would you like the rate sheet?"
"Please."
The attendant handed her a printed card. Lena looked it over in silence, her eyes moving down the numbers, and Damon could practically see her doing the math.
"It’s affordable," she said at last, almost in disbelief. "It’s actually affordable."
"Take the card," Damon said. "Think about it. We’re here for a few days."
She tucked the card into her notebook with the care of someone handling something sacred.
"Hey, you."
The voice came from the left, low and drawling. Damon turned to find a man who looked less like an alchemist and more like a warning.
A tall pointed hat sat crooked on his head. His robes hung loose around him, patched and stained in too many colors to count. Thick glasses hid most of his face, and beneath them a gas mask covered his nose and mouth, tubing trailing down to his neck like some mechanical parasite.
Not a single inch of skin showed above the collar.
Damon dismissed him at a glance. Probably some eccentric guild member. There were plenty of those in a place like this. He started to turn back toward Lena.
"Golden-haired, dude. I’m talking to you."
Damon stopped and looked over again, one eyebrow lifting.
"Do I know you?"
"Oh, wow. It really is you."
The man spread his arms wide, the gesture almost welcoming if it hadn’t been so theatrical.
"Been a while, hasn’t it, Persival?"
The name landed in Damon’s mind and stayed there. He searched through his memory, sorting through two years of faces that had sneered at him, laughed at him, ignored him.
It didn’t take long.
Leif Kjellson.
Back then, he had been a D-Rank [Poison Master], one of Matthew’s former lackeys before he had achieved a major power boost. freёwebnoѵel.com
He wasn’t a fighter, back then at least.
Too weak to throw a punch, too cowardly to face Damon directly even when Damon couldn’t fight back. So he had found other ways to feel powerful. Potions slipped into Damon’s food when no one was looking.
Nothing lethal, just enough to make him sick, miserable, and painfully aware of his place.
And he had been careful. No witnesses, no proof. Even when Damon managed to trace it back to him, the staff’s response was always the same: a pat on the back, a mumbled warning, and nothing else.
Because Leif had a system. And back then, Damon didn’t.
"I see you finally got your system working."
Leif looked him up and down, his tone heavy with mock appraisal.
"But it looks like you’re still using newbie equipment. Guess even your father got tired of supporting you—"
Damon’s fist slammed into his face before he could finish.
The impact rang through the greenhouse. Leif’s feet left the ground as he flew backward into a shelf of potted plants.
The wood gave way with a sharp crack, almost like breaking bones. Soil and ceramic shards scattered across the floor. Leif landed in the wreckage, his gas mask crooked and his hat crushed beneath him.
"D-Damon!" Lena’s voice cut through the silence.
But Leif was already forcing himself upright, dirt and torn leaves clinging to his robes. His voice came out hard, cutting her off before she could say anything else.
"Shut up, girl. This isn’t your problem."
The attendant hurried forward, eyes wide, already glancing toward the lobby. She didn’t need to say where she was headed. Security. Damon caught her sleeve before she could take another step.
"Take Lena with you. Make sure she’s safe."
The attendant hesitated. Under normal circumstances, that would have been an easy request, but Damon had been the one to throw the first punch. That complicated things. Still, Lena was clearly innocent in this, and that was enough for her to give in.
"R-right... Got it, sir..."
She reached for Lena’s arm, gentle but firm, and guided her toward the main hall. Lena looked back over her shoulder, mouth parting as if she wanted to protest, but the attendant was already leading her through the door and out of sight.
The door clicked shut behind them.
Damon turned back to Leif, who was still sitting amid the wreckage of the shelf, brushing dirt from his sleeves with deliberate slowness.
"You’ve gotten bolder," Leif said. "And stronger, apparently."
He tilted his head, and even through the gas mask, Damon could hear the smile in his voice.
"But you’re still the same idiot who doesn’t know when to keep his head down."
